Attachments
by el-inquisidor
Summary: “The Jedi see attachment as corruptive, while we know that it gives strength.” Anakin visits his mother and her family during his training as a Sith.


**Title: **Attachments

**Author: **TaRionne

**Genre: **General, AU

**Era: **TPM-ish

**Characters: **Shmi, Anakin, Owen, Darth Maul

**Summary: **Anakin's returns from his training to visit his mother... AU.

* * *

Owen watched his brother's lightsaber flashing, darting against and around the other man's at a speed he couldn't even follow.

He was amazed by the whole thing. Oh, he wasn't about to look like a sunstruck little kid about it, but he was. His brother jumped over the other man's head, landing on his other side with a laugh. The man attacked again, whirling his blades against the boy's, but the boy plugged at it like a bantha until the other man stepped back. They stopped their fight, and the man held his lightsaber out in front of him for a moment, until the blades retracted—first one, then the other.

Anakin, his face still glowing from his own lightsaber, only grinned bigger. He bowed formally to his attacker and turned his saber off.

"Thank you, master," he said.

Anakin's master nodded back.

Owen, sensing the duel was over, brought his hands up to clap. But no one else made a sound. Wondering if something was wrong, he turned to his parents.

Dad looked almost scared at the whole thing (hah! like he'd thought it was real!), but Shmi (no, she was Mom now—had been for some time) looked just as delighted as he.

"That was wonderful, Ani," she beamed. For a moment, Owen felt a pang. He couldn't do that — he would _never _be able to do that. Sure, he could bulls-eye womp rats at with his projectile rifle, but a rifle was just a rifle. His brother could use _laser-swords_.

"Your son has progressed well," said Anakin's master, in that prim-and-proper Core accent. Owen _hated _people who talked like that — but this guy didn't look like that kind of snob, so he supposed he could forgive it.

"It is all because of you," said Mom. "You and all you have done for us."

Owen got up and went to his brother, trying not to think about how jealous he was. It was his brother, after all. He only saw him once between harvests—he didn't have time to waste on stupid stuff like envy.

"What did you think, Owen?" his brother asked, oblivious to his conflict.

"It was wizard, Ani."

"Yeah!" said Anakin. "My master says I'll be strong enough to duel with _his _master soon."

Owen nodded.

"I went to this planet," Anakin went on. "I'm not allowed to say its name. But the entire thing is covered with _water_. It even falls from the skies! That's called _rain_," he informed Owen. "But I'm sure you've read about it in school and all."

"I'd like to see that planet," Owen said, mad about how tiny his voice was when he said it. He _did _sound like a little kid.

"Then I'll show you," said Anakin. "They have ships there—rows and rows of battleships. Fancy, shiny ones, with turbolaser ports bigger than a Hutt's vaporators. My master says we'll get to use them soon."

Owen nodded, feeling his throat catch.

"You'll learn how to use one, of course," said Anakin. "You'll have your very own. And then you'll come with me."

"With you?" Owen asked, hardly daring to hope. "Where?"

"To other planets, sleemo!" teased Anakin. "You'll be the admiral of my fleet."

Owen felt his mouth stretch in a grin. He liked the sound of being an 'admiral.' As long as he could have a ship, of course.

"Here," said Anakin, holding out his lightsaber.

Owen asked to hold it every time Anakin came. Without fail.

He accepted it gingerly, half-afraid the blade would leap out without warning. He was suddenly conscious of the silence around him, as Dad bit out a "Be careful, son!" and Anakin's master simply stared at him from under that dark hood.

"Can I?" Owen asked, as he always did.

Anakin waved a hand in permission.

Holding the hilt as far away from himself as he could, Owen pressed the button to ignite the lightsaber. The red beam—every bit as scarlet as the first sister sun—shot out of the hilt with a sizzle.

Owen grasped it for what seemed like an eternity. Then he held it out towards Anakin, who turned it off and took it back without even touching it.

"We must return soon," said Anakin's master, looking away from Owen. "I will ready the ship. You have one hour, Vader."

Anakin's master always called him that name. It was an off-world thing.

"Yes, master," said Anakin, turning from Owen and toward his mother. _Their _mother. "I have something to show you, Mom."

"Of course, Ani," Mom said, beaming again. She had a special smile then—the kind Owen only saw whenever Anakin visited.

Owen felt a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go to the shed, son," Dad suggested. "We need to turn off the power."

Owen nodded. They always made sure to give Anakin and Mom time together alone sometimes. Even Anakin's master was going back to his ship, the winds whirling his cloak around him and even whipping it free from his head, revealing an imposing crown of horns.

Anakin's master had scared him at first, with his strange black-and-red face. He still did, in fact.

"Don't stare, son," said Dad, poking his shoulder gently. "Go on."

* * *

"It's the Jewel of Zenda," Anakin told her, grinning as her mouth fell open. "It's for you, Mom."

"But Ani...I..." Shmi shook her head. Her son had already given them so much. Every time he visited, he brought something new. A brooch, some droids, even a swoopbike for Owen once. They usually ended up selling his gifts to support the farm, but now…now the farm was doing much better than it had before, far better than a Tatooine farm could be _expected _to…

Shmi turned the jewel over in her hands again.

"I can't accept this," she told her son. "You should sell this. Use the money for your Jedi training."

Ani laughed. "It's not Jedi, Mom. I've _told _you…"

"It's _Sith_, I _know_," Shmi said with mock exaggeration.

She really did know the difference. The Sith were like Jedi, only there were far fewer of them. They weren't bureaucratic law enforcers the Outer Rim would never see. They were like warriors out of some dune legend. And something like political reformers, to hear Ani speak of it. She didn't know much about politics, but she understood that Ani was often on a planet called Naboo, helping put the place to rights.

She was proud that her son was a Sith apprentice. She'd known he was _meant _for something when he was born, but she never imagined that it would be something as grand as liberating planets.

Anakin's teacher, Lord Maul, once told her that if her son had been trained by Jedi, she would never have seen him again.

"That is the difference between our orders," he'd told her. "The Jedi see attachment as corruptive, while we know that it gives strength."

Lord Maul. She hadn't liked him at first—or the way her son called him "master," as if he were still a slave. She'd been afraid she'd made a mistake once, watching her son come back from his training with a strange new look in his eyes.

But now her son's eyes were twinkling at her, resolute and bright and somehow lighter than they'd ever been before.

He was still her Ani. He was just growing up.

"There's this girl, Mom," Ani interrupted. "I met her during the…on this planet. Naboo. It's beautiful, Mom—I'll show you soon."

Shmi nodded. Her son had a crush on a girl? She wanted to hear about _this_.

"My master works with her," Ani explained. "Well, her and some others. On Naboo." Ani grinned and leaned towards her. "She actually doesn't like him very much. But she likes me. She didn't at first, but I changed that when I told her she looked like an angel."

Shmi laughed. "You said _what_?"

* * *

"Lord Maul," Vader's mother greeted, as he walked into the house to find his apprentice licking a spoon covered with some kind of pudding and talking to his mother. She bowed, slightly, but she was still grinning and looking into his eyes—something few sentients had the courage to do.

"Anakin was just telling me about his friend. The woman from Naboo."

"Ah," said Maul. The Queen's handmaiden, that Padmé Naberrie his apprentice was so fond of. He knew she was involved in some sort of resistance against the occupation, and that she would soon need to be killed. He was hoping that if he worked things in just the right way, his apprentice would recognize the need for this himself.

"Her name is Padmé," Vader continued. "I'm going to marry her, one day."

Maul shook his head before his apprentice could go on any farther. He really would have to stop Vader's foolish attachment to the woman. Perhaps he could have this Naberrie discreetly murdered by _a pair of marauding Jedi Knights_...

Vader's mother caught Maul's expression and laughed. "I will have to meet her then," she said. She turned to Maul in a human gesture of camaraderie. "And what about you, Lord Maul? Have you a lady as well?"

Maul found he couldn't speak. He'd never been asked such a thing. He should be angry, he supposed—her words sounded like impertinence, but he could sense that Vader's mother did not mean them in that way.

Vader started laughing. He was far bolder than Maul had been as an apprentice, though Maul usually did not correct this. The boy's boldness made him strong.

"Oh!" said Shmi, bending to retrieve something from the refrigeration unit. "This reminds me. I've made some extra cakes for you both. For your trip. And don't refuse, Lord Maul, I made yours with extra spicing. _Halapnyo_, the way you like it."

Maul recalled that he'd tasted that spice the last year they'd come and had liked it more than most. He was surprised Vader's mother remembered.

Maul couldn't pretend to understand Shmi Skywalker. It wasn't just because she was human—Maul had been around humans since birth. His own master was a human. Humans he could understand.

Vader's mother, he could not.

But then again, Maul had never known his own mother. He'd learned years ago, before taking his own apprentice, that Sidious had killed her because she'd refused to give him to his master. She'd tried to fight him. Maul imagined she'd been defeated quite painfully.

Sometimes he wondered—but rarely now, very rarely—what she would have been like. If she would have made cakes with extra spicing, as Vader's mother did.

Maul had thought about arranging her death once, back when Vader was weaker and bound by his attachment to her. But he seemed to be growing out of that—he treated his mother with a special regard, but Maul knew there was no threat of him ever wishing to return to her permanently. He was attached to his mother, but he was far more attached to his destiny.

And Vader had fought well in their lightsaber demonstration for his mother—more precisely than Maul had ever seen him before. He'd wanted to please her, and this wish had made his technique more powerful.

The old teachings were right — attachments _could _grant one strength. It was how Maul himself had grown so proficient in the Force. His regard for his master had made him do anything for the man—once. But now he felt no attachment to that old monster. He felt no attachment for anyone. Though he could tolerate the company of his apprentice, who despite his youth was not the burden Maul had once expected him to be. The boy was a lot like him after all. They took the same joy in fighting—the boy was now creating many of the same lightsaber techniques Maul thought he'd invented in his own youth—and in swoopbikes and spaceships, of all things.

"Vader," Maul said, checking the box Shmi Skywalker had given him for explosives, poisons, or the sort. Not that he expected any—it was merely a reflex. "We must leave."

"Yes, master," said Vader, and Maul could sense that he was not as reluctant to go as he'd been in years past. He enjoyed time with his mother, but Tatooine largely bored him.

Maul knew that Vader would find their next mission anything but boring. A pair of Jedi—master and padawan—had grown too curious about Naboo for their own good.

Vader would kill his first Jedi soon.

Absently, Maul picked one of the round cakes from the box and tasted it.

"Do you like them?" asked Vader's mother, and Maul felt the urge to exclaim that he liked them indeed. He settled for a detached nod.

"Good," she said. She was pleased. Maul wondered why. It took him a moment to understand that she was pleased by his own satisfaction.

Vader, feeling left out, levitated a cake out of the box. Maul let him get away with it.

When Vader was fully trained, Maul decided, he would let his apprentice move his family to Naboo. Vader's mother would like it there, and it would be far enough from Coruscant that she wouldn't unduly influence his apprentice. It was the sort of thing Maul might have done for his own mother, had Lord Sidious not killed her.

In fact, Maul would give Vader's mother the Palpatine family's Lake Country estate.

Sidious wouldn't need it for much longer.


End file.
